One evening a few years back, I was helping to serve dinner at my church to a group of folks who were without food or shelter. We’d worked really hard to make a nice meal, to have small gifts for the group, and a warm place to spend the night. It felt like important work and ministry. Before the food was served, I was asked to offer the blessing. I was happy to do so. Afterwards, as the line formed and the servers dished up the hearty meal, a guest came to me. He wanted to know if I lived in a home of my own. And I shared that I did. He then wanted to know why God allowed me to have that but not him.
So, what was I to say? Here I was a little do-gooder with a life of ease, and before me stood a man wrestling with life’s struggles and questions that matter deeply to the soul. I don’t know if what came out of my mouth was right or wrong, helpful or harsh. I don’t know if it meant anything to him, but to this very day the words continue to speak to me. I simply said, “I don’t have an answer to that question, but what I do know is that there is a man sleeping outside in the cold tonight that wonders why you have a warm meal and bed upon which to sleep.”
I have a small piece of paper I keep in my wallet. My Dad gave it to me probably close to thirty years ago. I don’t know where the quotation came from, but in Dad’s handwriting are these words: If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain [proud of yourself] and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
For thirty years and counting, I am learning not to compare myself to others. I am learning to be grateful for what I do have. I am learning to trust that sometimes just enough or almost enough is enough. I grow weary and discouraged when I notice all that I do not have and wish to have, but I am strong when I return my eyes and heart to the gifts before me. When I find myself thinking the words, “It’s not fair,” about any number of things, I remember the man before me, and I stop and give thanks for my life, right here in my own shoes.
Some do have luxurious lives. Some have lives fraught with famine and discrimination and detriment. But on some level, we all have both. It is wise from time to time, to examine how we view wealth and how we view poverty, and to tend both aspects of our own lives. We all have need. We all have yearnings. And I say to that, “Let the dreaming and the imagining lead us on.” But by whatever measure we feel poor, may that keep us here, in this moment, until we grow wiser, deeper, and more available to what gratitude can offer. Once we arrive here, we are sure to find we have plenty with more than enough to spare. We will also be reminded that it’s not about what we own, but about what we eagerly give away.
Spend your fears, your trials, your heaviest burden on gratitude. You won’t be disappointed.
So, what was I to say? Here I was a little do-gooder with a life of ease, and before me stood a man wrestling with life’s struggles and questions that matter deeply to the soul. I don’t know if what came out of my mouth was right or wrong, helpful or harsh. I don’t know if it meant anything to him, but to this very day the words continue to speak to me. I simply said, “I don’t have an answer to that question, but what I do know is that there is a man sleeping outside in the cold tonight that wonders why you have a warm meal and bed upon which to sleep.”
I have a small piece of paper I keep in my wallet. My Dad gave it to me probably close to thirty years ago. I don’t know where the quotation came from, but in Dad’s handwriting are these words: If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain [proud of yourself] and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
For thirty years and counting, I am learning not to compare myself to others. I am learning to be grateful for what I do have. I am learning to trust that sometimes just enough or almost enough is enough. I grow weary and discouraged when I notice all that I do not have and wish to have, but I am strong when I return my eyes and heart to the gifts before me. When I find myself thinking the words, “It’s not fair,” about any number of things, I remember the man before me, and I stop and give thanks for my life, right here in my own shoes.
Some do have luxurious lives. Some have lives fraught with famine and discrimination and detriment. But on some level, we all have both. It is wise from time to time, to examine how we view wealth and how we view poverty, and to tend both aspects of our own lives. We all have need. We all have yearnings. And I say to that, “Let the dreaming and the imagining lead us on.” But by whatever measure we feel poor, may that keep us here, in this moment, until we grow wiser, deeper, and more available to what gratitude can offer. Once we arrive here, we are sure to find we have plenty with more than enough to spare. We will also be reminded that it’s not about what we own, but about what we eagerly give away.
Spend your fears, your trials, your heaviest burden on gratitude. You won’t be disappointed.
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